Extreme Unction (Tom Riddle saga)

Chapter 6

"No passion so effectually robs the mind of all its powers of acting and reasoning as fear" ~
Edmund Burke

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Richard glanced around himself to make sure he was alone.
He didn't want to fall in some traps that the most skilled girls could set for him as a revenge for having being rejected.
An unrequited love must be something really painful, but he believed it was just a matter of pride.
Teaching some humility didn't seem a bad mission.
He thought of the American guest. Pretty Ethel.
He had been able to steal a kiss from her, but he wasn't looking forward to spend more time with her.
It had been quite cruel towards his friend Regulus, who had a crush on her, but poor Reg couldn't afford to fall in love since his family would have chosen for him some pureblood girl.
So Richard believed he was doing a favour to everyone.
That girl had a pretty face and a gorgeous body, but soon Richard realized they had very little in common. He wanted to talk about Quidditch, but she didn't care much about the matter.
Richard sighed. He wanted someone with whom he could speak about everything and being understood.
His pace fastened as he thought of his parents and how they were able to deal with any topic and support each other without hesitation.
He wanted to find a witch like his mother.
But destiny hadn't been merciful with him as it had been with his father.
Everyone always spoke highly of the professor, but his son believed that behind that glowing reputation there were skeletons hidden in the wardrobes. He could imagine a younger version of his father breaking hearts with his handsome face.
That was nature.
It blessed them with beauty, so it wasn't their fault if every step they made meant breaking someone's heart.
Richard wondered if magic could be powerful enough to make a copy of his mother for himself or if he needed to time travel himself back to her school years to test if he was able to make her fall for him instead of his father.
The boy smirked at that paradoxical idea.
But he also felt hopeless, powerless.
Where his father seemed to be able to shape the world, Richard felt unable to shape his own life in the way he wanted it to be.
He glanced down from a balcony and spotted his mother being disturbed by Fawley again.
Fury started to boil into his veins.
At first the idea of having that legend as his step father seemed wonderful, a dream coming true.
Now that admiration was turning into bitter hatred.
He couldn't accept to see that wizard daring to touch her. She didn't look truly happy of his attention and that was the sparkle that set Richard and his anger against that influent man.
But worst of all was his father's unforgivable behaviour. He didn't just ignore how Fawley was flirting with his wife as every magazine was also gossiping about, but he was also distracting himself with the ex minister! Who was a queen of beauty but she had the soul of a hag.
Richard shook his head with bitterness.
He couldn't understand adults.
He was used to see his parents bonded by the strongest love he ever met, to see them in love like they were still a couple teenagers, so much that he also found it embarrassing.
And now that they were reunited at Hogwarts, they allowed some outsiders into their lives.
If he thought of his American crush cheating on him with someone else, he felt no jealousy.
He could also stop dating her, since it was boring.
He decided to join Regulus and their mates from Durmstrang who could make whiskey appear out of nowhere. Maybe he was able to get drunk enough to wake up in the bed of some Durmstrang girls, who all looked like boys.
Richard laughed bitterly at the idea.
No, he didn't want to lose control over his actions when he needed to keep an eye on his parents.
His mind finally found a target for his revenge. He should have thought of it earlier.

*

Evelyn enjoyed the evening breeze as she felt relieved after getting rid of Fawley and his nonsense speeches about the future of the Ministry.
In their wanderings in the open air he didn't ever glance once at the pretty view of colorful leaves that were falling from the trees, leaving only the evergreen ones dressed with their usual leaves.
He had no poetic nor romantic side. When he picked some banal flower to offer to her it looked like an already exceptional gesture.
His mind was crammed with ideals of power, control, ambition.
Evelyn guessed that for him she was just a bet, a trophy for his successful event. He was used to gloat whenever he handed her the pages from newspapers and magazines that shared so many lies about them. But Fawley was used to lies and to use them for his own advantage.